021: A Kiss with a Fist
by Werewolf's Oneshots
Summary: I broke your jaw once before, I spilled your blood upon the floor. You broke my leg in return, so sit back and watch the bed burn.


Unlike previous pieces I've written, this is pure, unadulterated crack fic. It exists to satisfy my fetishes and hopefully some of yours. And it exists because I hate Meg. Ruby is the _only_ demon Castiel should be macking on. Not counting Lucifer.

(My point being it's very different than what I've posted here before, so I'm nervous as to the responses, so please don't be too harsh on me.)

[Warnings: Slightly graphic sexuality, consensual violence (as in beating), cursing, out of character-ness, regular stuff you find in crack fics]

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_A kick to the teeth is good for some,_  
_A kiss with a fist is better than none_

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They met in the night, neither a second later than the other. His tie was loose, her shirt unbuttoned. They came prepared.

"Cas."

"Ruby."

Voices anything but friendly, edging towards hostile. Their eyes continued the conversation in silence, each scanning for danger, for a trap, for a hint of uncovered skin that had previously been hidden.

It was dark, black and blue shadows dominated. The natural light of the moon through the holes in the ceiling as the only illumination besides the few office lights of the nearby buildings. The air was cold and sharp, no wind on this cold night, nor clouds. The only glimmer of life was the stars reflecting on their eyes, creating steely, striking stares.

Neither moved for minutes, but the demon wasn't patient as the angel. She took the first step forward, causing him to tense, causing her to tense, but she took another step. He waited; that was the order of things. She came to him, the lesser to the better. Younger to elder. She held her knife and he held his, and the latter fact tinged her anticipation with prickles of fear. One heavenly warrior against one twisted soul. Her knife meant nothing.

A second later she was in front of him, quite directly. Within striking distance, he thought, as if he couldn't travel to the opposite wall in a second.

It was cold in the tiny hallway and he could feel her warmth from a distance when she first appeared. Now as she drew close, he could feel her heat intensely. Not physically, but in his grace. The heat of the Hell she was forever chained to. He shivered.

"Cold?" She asked coyly, a Cheshire's smile on her lips. "Need some... warming up?"

He did not reply, just stared into her eyes intently. It intimidated her, he could tell, but she was never scared enough to back down. She knew it bothered him.

A clock chimed in the distance, outside and below where they were located. The first of twelve chimes vibrated through the floor.

Ruby drew her knife, eyes flashing black. The blade made contact with his neck. Iron met vessel like acid meets water, like alcohol meets fire, like Heaven meets Hell. His skin sliced open and white light flashed from beneath and she could feel its cold burn, see it illuminate both their faces for half a moment. She thought to dodge to the side but he had already grabbed her by the neck and held her off the ground. She tried to struggle but his hand found her windpipe and squeezed, while his own blade flew across her chest. She cried out where he'd been silent.

"You... bastard..." She choked out, but her words were cut off has he pressed her against the wall and, still strangling, pressed his lips to hers.

The second chime rang out.

Ruby wriggled a hand free and struck at his temple; one blow landed, the second whizzed through air as her body was flung against the opposite wall.

"No foreplay... this evening... darling?" She asked, gasping from the floor. Chuckling to herself. The clock continued forgotten.

Castiel tilted his head, ignoring the now-bleeding line at his throat. It tingled with pain but he didn't flinch. "You're weaker tonight. Why?"

She rolled her eyes. What could she say, life was tough as a demon and she was lucky some days to get out half alive. "Don't worry-" cough- "I haven't been _cheating_ on you."

Before she had finished her last words she threw her knife at his heart and pushed herself off the wall as quickly as she could. The knife was easily dodged but she hit his body with her own as he stepped aside. His knees gave in quickly and she was on top of him, twisting his arm to aim the heavenly knife at his own throat. He was off his game, too.

Ruby pinned the angel to the floor with her body. He could free himself if he wanted to, she was hardly a fraction of his own weight and much less powerful. He only put up mild struggles, though, as she held his knife in place with one hand, loosening the tie with the other.

"Do you always dress for work when seeking pleasure?" She asked, starting on his shirt buttons. The knife was cutting in to his neck flesh again, sending sparks of white light sizzling onto her skin. She was distracted by the stings and didn't notice him snatch her knife off the floor, not until he had swung it into her side.

She screamed, actually screamed, and jerked off him. He grabbed her by the middle, knife sticking out of her ribs. Flipped her over him, righting himself as he went. She hit the cold floor on his other side. Ripping the knife from her side she swung it at him. He dodged but it was a feint; she swung a foot out and cracked his head against the wall.

He recovered before showing any pain, however, reeling and holding her body with his. He wrestled the knife from her hands, the blade cutting both several times. Light of white and sizzling red emitted from their injured fingers.

"Shit," she gasped, trying to add more but unable to speak through the sensations.

Roles reversed, Castiel now had her pinned. Both breathed heavily and fought the pain, but neither hesitated as they kissed once again. She was fierce, biting almost as much as caressing, and he was out of his league. In the dark he traced his bleeding fingers down her body, leaving wet trails that looked black in the night along her pale skin. He didn't stop over her newest knife wound. His fingers sunk into it and she arched and moaned under him. Her hands ripped at his collar, fingernails searching for skin to scratch.

"You got lucky" she whimpered, breaking for air but not moving her face away from his. Her lips moved down his chest as his hands moved down her body. She kissed his neck, licking his blood from her lips. The delicious ambrosia of angel blood, a luxury she was sure no other demon could get. Her tongue probed the wound deeper and he jerked back with a hiss, eyes tight.

She slapped him. "Don't deny me."

He paused only a moment from the sting, but took her again by the neck and propped her up against the wall, straddling her. She'd gotten his shirt completely open, he'd removed her bra. They were fast workers.

He smeared her front with her own blood, covering every inch of her breasts with the sticky liquid that still seeped from her side. She followed the dripping from his neck and his head with her mouth as best she could while he worked, her hands moving down to his belt. He paused as her fingers went below the cloth and he shuddered.

"What's wrong tiger?" She asked in a purr, "You don't have a concussion do you?"

He shook his head, eyes slightly foggy, not admitting that she was probably right. He didn't heal himself though, but reveled in the hazy pleasure as her hands got friendly with him below the belt. Their lips met again, possibly the gentlest kiss of the evening. The taste of blood was enticing and he slid his mouth down her body, lapping up what he'd spread over her earlier, panting hard. In the darkness neither bothered to open their eyes; with the blood, mostly hers, covered clothing and skin, everything was tinted black.

The angel's body tightened as he neared his crescendo, her demon fingers working quickly and precisely. She moaned, pleasure dulling the pain, as his mouth explored her neck and nape and lower. His hands held and pressed, tensing as he grew closer and closer and closer, holding tight, squeezing her as he finally came over the edge.

He went rigid, his only movement to quickly lock his lips to Ruby's in one last, long kiss. She accepted it, not stopping until he was entirely spent. Their tongues embraced a fourth and last time, both once again becoming aware of their own beating hearts and the deep breathing of the other.

Clouds had snuck over the horizon, shielding the ramshackle building from most stars and moonlight. The two were silhouettes, darker voids against dark walls. Long moments went by and they simply sat there, demon leaning against the wall, angel leaning against the demon, sharing long labored breaths.

It was again Ruby who made the first move, tracing a finger along his bruised chest. She took in the cold softness, the freshness of skin that rarely saw anything but the inside of his white dress shirt. She breathed in his scent, the scent of nothingness and sweat and blood and something so innately pure and bright it made her sick to think about it.

But he pulled back, breaking the contact. He leaned away and let the chilly air replace her warm electric skin.

Moving out of her reach he put his hand against the wall, pulling himself upwards and into a standing position. He began straightening his dishelved clothing, remaining coldly silent.

"Leaving already, ace?" her voice snaked up from the floor like dried leaves on a winter t breeze, falling back down around his feet, ignored. She pouted, aware he couldn't see it in the dark but wanting to anyway. "Next time you can return the favor, hm?"

"Next time, I might let you live again." His tie lay on the floor between her thighs, and neither made any move to fetch it.

"You say that like you don't love our little get-togethers." She said, louder this time. She almost forgot during their romp just how much he got on her nerves.

In the inky night the only thing shining was her eyes, tiny pinpricks of starlight on a figure of black. He leaned down, sliding his hand behind her head and brushing his lips against hers, barely touching. "Do not," he breathed more than spoke, "forget your place, little demon." He withdrew, his other hand grabbing the heavenly knife she had slipped into her waistband. He's already confiscated hers at some point during the action, she saw. Damn, he was clever. She'd need another plan.

"Same time tomorrow?" she joked. Ruby expected him to disappear in a blink and a whoosh of feathers like every night, leaving her to lick her wounds in peace. But he didn't stand up again. He crouched there by her, his eyes staring. He was so damn good at staring. She felt like a page of his precious bible and wondered what information he was reading from her.

He plunked down next to her, exhaling deeply. She was glad it was too dark for him to see her eyes get wide. Was he going to stay?

They both stared out into the city, the door hanging lifelessly off its hinges. Exhaustion was the king of both, his had slipping down to her lap, her body barely propped up against his. She held her side, feeling weary and tired and incredibly satisfied. For a long while silence filled the darkness.

"Whore." he said finally, eyes fixed on the horizon.

"Prick." She declared to the wall. She let her lids close from weariness, the crisp air not bothering her as she leaned into him and settled in for the night.

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Lyrics by Florence and the Machine.

_Prompt #21, Desecrate (v. _to violate something of sacred character; the disrespectful or contemptuous treatment of that which is held to be sacred)


End file.
